


Calm

by FionaFoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Desire, F/M, Longing, Lust, hunting things, saving people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FionaFoe/pseuds/FionaFoe
Summary: Reader and John are hunting partner, reader longs for him.
Relationships: John Winchester/Reader, John Winchester/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, I write the same fic over and over, but tough shit. It's what I do to keep the creativity afloat.

I smell him before I hear him utter my name. The sensation of his natural scent combined with the whiskey he’s drunk and the huge truck he was just ducked under the hood of, it’s like his own personal brand of cologne. I hear the sound of him taking a deep breath, which my treacherous heart wants me to believe is to smell me too, before he huffs out my name in his raspy voice, again thanks to the whiskey. By the sound of his tone I know what’s coming. We have to go back on the road, our few days of downtime coming to an end. I was hoping the calm and rest would spark something in him, something the stress and tension of the job won’t let him feel or act on. I would never admit it though. I am not making the first move. The thought of being shot down and making it all too awkward for him to keep me around is too much to bear.

“We gotta go.”

“I know.” I nod. “I’ll get my bag.”

I walk back over to the house crossing the small field between the trees where I’d been doing some target practise, fresh, spring grass soft against the soles of my boots. As I step over the threshold of the small cabin borrowed from a colleague, if you can call him that, I spot my bag laying in the exact same spot I dropped it the night before as we got in. I roam the three small rooms of the house, picking up the few essentials I used the night before. Glancing across the living room I say a silent goodbye to what might have happened if we’d been able to stay. I cast a last glance at the worn couch John had slept on as I tried to go to sleep in the bedroom, wondering if he was still awake, fighting the urge to tip toe back out of the room to check. Fighting the urge to watch him sleep, watch him be calm, watch him like I’ve watched him so many times in bad motel rooms or the cab of the truck catching some shut eye. How I’d love to feel him like this, feel his broad back and chest as he breathes slowly, his breath steady.

Whenever I’ve felt his body against mine it has always been with haste and fear and anger. John pushing me out of the way of danger, pulling me off of the floor after being brutally knocked down by something far bigger and stronger than the both of us, John dragging me along when he can tell it’s time for us to get the hell away from a situation.

Urgency and haste has its place, I know that, not just in these situations, but also in far more pleasurable ones. Still, I would love to just once feel his calm.

I wait by the car as he gets ready, leaning against his truck. In the midday sunshine I can feel that its black side is hot against my denim clad back. John stomps out of the cabin, pushing the door shut and locking up, hiding the key in its designated spot. Walking towards me the gravel crunches under his army boots. His bag is tossed over his shoulder. He has taken his plaid shirt off, leaving his torso in just a gray henley with the buttons popped. He looks better than I want him to.

“So, what is it this time?” I ask as he draws close.

He doesn't answer right away, but takes the time to secure his bag under the tarp over the truck bed.

I tap my foot on the ground, and he finally looks over at me.

“Werewolf,” he says pushing past me where I’m leaning, opening the driver seat door.

“Where?”

“Fort Sumner,” he sighs. “New Mexico. It will take us more than a few hours to get there, so get in already.”

He shuts the door and I huff in annoyance. Typical John, he is so short of words. It frustrates me, but yet I stick around. He taught me all I know. When I met him I was so green, almost getting myself killed every other week. John took me under his wing, and truth be told we make a good team. Now it’s more of an equal partnership, and it has been for about six month’s time.

I open the window, letting the fresh spring air graze my cheek, I close my eyes and try to forget that we’re heading to smoldering heat. I do best in cooler climates. Soon I will have no use for my denim jacket and boots, having to trade them for ligheter clothes and shoes. Sadly I don’t own much of those, keeping with me only the things I absolutely need. When you live out of a bag, minimalism is key.

“We need to make a stop,” I say, eyes still closed.

“Already?” John almost sounds amused.

“Not what you think,” I say, turning to face him. “I need new clothes. I’m not equipped for New Mexico.”

“Fair point. Neither am I,” he peels his eyes off the road for a second meeting my eyes.

“I figured,” I say, and as he takes his eyes off me I can’t help but break into a little smile.

***

“Looks good,” I say as John pulls on a new baseball cap.

We’re back in the truck after an efficient shopping spree. Thin shirts and sneakers, a few pairs of denim shorts, my bag is filled with new, shiny clothes. John only got a few things, a cap and a few thinner henleys.

“Practical,” he says and puts the key in the ignition. “Keeps the sun out of my eyes.”

“Still,” I shrug, “looks good. It’s a good look for you.”

John cocks his head, but doesn’t say anything. I know him well enough by now to know what that means, it’s a solid “maybe you’re right”.

“Good call,” he says checking the rear view window as he pulls out of the parking spot. “We needed something new for this trip. You like your heavy materials.” Having pulled out he shoots me half a smile, making fun.

John doesn't do this often, but it’s a treat every time.

“You’re right,” I play along, knowing to take advantage of the moment. “New Mexico is a great ruse to get me in some skimpier clothes.”

John lets out a short laugh, and the moment’s over. I know I’ll savour it though, and that it will keep me up wondering how it would feel to hold him for at least another night.

***

Another night comes before we’re close enough to New Mexico to keep going before a good night’s sleep, better sleep than either of us can get in the car. And the total dark we’re driving through doesn’t help. The road is remote enough for there to be now streetlights to shine their light through the windshield. I lean forward to take a peek at the stars and moon above us, thinking of how silent and calm it must be up there. I imagine floating through space without having any idea what goes on down there on this big, blue rock. As I strain my neck even further forward I can feel how tense it is from switching between dozing off in the car and taking turns at the wheel. It is past midnight and I see John yawn, his broad chest rising and falling with the sound of sleep. He has been intensely staring at the road for hours and I see him squeeze his brown eyes hard together for a second and shake his head.

“We should sleep,” I say trying to roll my head around to fight the pain away.

“I’ll pull up and get some shut eye,” John mumbles and starts looking up ahead for a place to stop.

“No, John,” I sigh. “Some real sleep, calm it for a bit. Let’s just check in to a motel. Neither of us should hunt without getting some good sleep. Besides, we could both do with a shower.”

He looks over at me, lifting his eyebrows, causing the furrows of his forehead to deepen even more.

“Careful now,” he chuckles. “I might think you’re saying that I smell.”

He does, but not at all in a bad way. The only inconvenience is in the fact that his scent only lays thick in the cab of the truck, burrowing into my heart through my nostrils, sending all kinds of warm feelings rushing through me. He smells, but in a way which makes me heady with longing and desire.

“No comment,” I simply say, and shoot him a half smile which I’m not sure he notices in the darkness of the cab.

***

I step into the room, drop my bag and do a big stretch, John is right behind me clearing his throat as I release. I turn to face him, catching him in a slight smirk. He drops it fast, so fast it leaves me wondering if I’d seen it at all. There goes my heart again fluttering at every little sign of him ever thinking of me in any other way than a hunting partner. John looks down, stretching his neck massaging it roughly.

“You take the bed tonight,” I offer, shooting him a look that says I insist.

“No,” he says in a tone indicating that it’s not up for discussion.

He is stubborn, but so am I.

“Yes.” I cross my arms across my chest. “I can tell you need it.”

“So do you.”

“Well, sadly for you I am younger, my back is younger and so is my will to win.”

“Well, aren’t you just the rudest. I’m not so sure about youth being better than old age in that will to win though,”

“Relax, you’re not old enough to be a grumpy, old man yet.” I mock. “Grumpy, middle aged man, maybe.”

“Watch it, not sure I’m mid life.” A devilish grin slides across his face. “With this life I don’t think I’ll make it more than another ten.”

The thought ties my stomach in knots. John being dead is always a thing to be feared living this life, but I shudder at the thought every time it crosses my mind. In the span of our partnership we’ve both been brushed by death more than a handful of times already.

“Now get your ass into bed,” he demands. “That’s an order, young lady.” And with those words my desire to be calm with him is gone in an instant. Suddenly it’s not calmness and stillness I want, but something else all together.”

I weigh it in my mind if it’s worth arguing with him anymore, but with his good mood I decide to go another route.

“We can both fit… It’s a double.” I say cocking my head a little to the side.

“Very funny,” John says and plants himself on the couch.

My pride is hurt, but at least he took it as a joke and is none the wiser to my true intentions. I did not make the first move, I tell myself, it was just a silly joke.

***

I wake up, the motel covers rough against my cheek, and take a peek at the whiteish wall clock, yellowed by years in the sun. It's just past seven am. It might be early, but I've learned to live on five hours sleep, so six feels like a luxury. John is sitting up on the couch, his gun dismantled on the shitty coffee table in front of him, he’s giving it a good clean.

“Mornin,’” I say and stretch.

“Mornin’,” he utters without taking his eyes off the gun.

“Been up long?” I ask as I peel myself out of bed, letting my bare feet fall to the carpeted floor, trying not to think about what might lurk between the strands.

“Hour or so,” he answers, still focused on the task.

“Mind if I take a shower?”

“Go ahead, I’m done.”

I skip over to my bag to be in as little contact with the floor as possible, careful as not to reveal my undies under the huge t-shirt I sleep in. Not that he’d notice if it slipped all the way up to my navel…

In the bathroom, between cracked tiles and what I’m pretty sure is cockroach traps, John has tossed his towel on the floor and right now it seems like the safest place to stand. I step onto it, trying not to fantasize about how he’s dragged it all across his body, but failing miserably of course. I pull the shirt up and off and shimmy out of my panties, letting them fall to the towel, before I step in the shower. The floor of the shower is wet and slippy with soap not completely washed away, the sensation strange and slightly uncomfortable under my feet. I turn the water on and a terribly low pressured stream of warm water starts dancing off the top of my head.

Fresh and clean, I wrap a towel around me, and wipe the steam off the mirror. I look worn and tired, I would never believe myself to not even have hit thirty. Darkness frames my eyes and my hair hasn't had a decent cut in ages. I braid my still wet hair sloppily, and moisturize my face. Why help those wrinkles any further along? I brush some mascara through my lashes, and put some lightly tinted chapstick on. Brushing my teeth, the automated task makes my mind wander again. I stare at myself in the mirror, and wonder what it would take for John to look at me the way he sometimes looks at other women. Once in a blue moon I catch him admiring someone from a distance, on a few occasions it has even gotten somewhere, my gut wrenched in envy every time he tells me to go home ahead of him, and he stays behind chatting up some girl in a bar. Am I really that much less sexy? I certainly don’t think so. I catch other men look at me all the time, but John is always composed and professional. On the rare instances when he does show me a sliver of his flirty side it never lasts longer than a minute.

A sudden knock on the door makes me jolt, almost making me drop the towel.

“Hey!” John calls through the door.

“Fuck, John!” I holler back. “You startled me.”

“I’m getting coffee, and then I think we should leave. Get a move on.” He declares, and I faintly hear him turn on his heel and start walking away.

“Aye aye, captain!” I yell, and start digging through my stuff for some of those new clothes.


	2. Chapter 2

Another night comes before we’re close enough to New Mexico to keep going before a good night’s sleep, better sleep than either of us can get in the car. And the total dark we’re driving through doesn’t help. The road is remote enough for there to be now streetlights to shine their light through the windshield. I lean forward to take a peek at the stars and moon above us, thinking of how silent and calm it must be up there. I imagine floating through space without having any idea what goes on down there on this big, blue rock. As I strain my neck even further forward I can feel how tense it is from switching between dozing off in the car and taking turns at the wheel. It is past midnight and I see John yawn, his broad chest rising and falling with the sound of sleep. He has been intensely staring at the road for hours and I see him squeeze his brown eyes hard together for a second and shake his head.

“We should sleep,” I say trying to roll my head around to fight the pain away.

“I’ll pull up and get some shut eye,” John mumbles and starts looking up ahead for a place to stop. 

“No, John,” I sigh. “Some real sleep, calm it for a bit. Let’s just check in to a motel. Neither of us should hunt without getting some good sleep. Besides, we could both do with a shower.”

He looks over at me, lifting his eyebrows, causing the furrows of his forehead to deepen even more.

“Careful now,” he chuckles. “I might think you’re saying that I smell.”

He does, but not at all in a bad way. The only inconvenience is in the fact that his scent only lays thick in the cab of the truck, burrowing into my heart through my nostrils, sending all kinds of warm feelings rushing through me. He smells, but in a way which makes me heady with longing and desire.

“No comment,” I simply say, and shoot him a half smile which I’m not sure he notices in the darkness of the cab.

***

I step into the room, drop my bag and do a big stretch, John is right behind me clearing his throat as I release. I turn to face him, catching him in a slight smirk. He drops it fast, so fast it leaves me wondering if I’d seen it at all. There goes my heart again fluttering at every little sign of him ever thinking of me in any other way than a hunting partner. John looks down, stretching his neck massaging it roughly.

“You take the bed tonight,” I offer, shooting him a look that says _ I insist. _

“No,” he says in a tone indicating that it’s not up for discussion.

He is stubborn, but so am I.

“Yes.” I cross my arms across my chest. “I can tell you need it.”

“So do you.”

“Well, sadly for you I am younger, my back is younger and so is my will to win.”

“Well, aren’t you just the rudest. I’m not so sure about youth being better than old age in that will to win though,” 

“Relax, you’re not old enough to be a grumpy, old man yet.” I mock. “Grumpy, middle aged man, maybe.”

“Watch it, not sure I’m mid life.” A devilish grin slides across his face. “With this life I don’t think I’ll make it more than another ten.”

The thought ties my stomach in knots. John being dead is always a thing to be feared living this life, but I shudder at the thought every time it crosses my mind. In the span of our partnership we’ve both been brushed by death more than a handful of times already.

“Now get your ass into bed,” he demands. “That’s an order, young lady.” And with those words my desire to be calm with him is gone in an instant. Suddenly it’s not calmness and stillness I want, but something else all together.”

I weigh it in my mind if it’s worth arguing with him anymore, but with his good mood I decide to go another route.

“We can both fit… It’s a double.” I say cocking my head a little to the side.

“Very funny,” John says and plants himself on the couch.

My pride is hurt, but at least he took it as a joke and is none the wiser to my true intentions. I did not make the first move, I tell myself, it was just a silly joke.

***

I wake up, the motel covers rough against my cheek, and take a peek at the whiteish wall clock, yellowed by years in the sun. It's just past seven am. It might be early, but I've learned to live on five hours sleep, so six feels like a luxury. John is sitting up on the couch, his gun dismantled on the shitty coffee table in front of him, he’s giving it a good clean. 

“Mornin,’” I say and stretch.

“Mornin’,” he utters without taking his eyes off the gun.

“Been up long?” I ask as I peel myself out of bed, letting my bare feet fall to the carpeted floor, trying not to think about what might lurk between the strands.

“Hour or so,” he answers, still focused on the task.

“Mind if I take a shower?”

“Go ahead, I’m done.”

I skip over to my bag to be in as little contact with the floor as possible, careful as not to reveal my undies under the huge t-shirt I sleep in. Not that he’d notice if it slipped all the way up to my navel…

In the bathroom, between cracked tiles and what I’m pretty sure is cockroach traps, John has tossed his towel on the floor and right now it seems like the safest place to stand. I step onto it, trying not to fantasize about how he’s dragged it all across his body, but failing miserably of course. I pull the shirt up and off and shimmy out of my panties, letting them fall to the towel, before I step in the shower. The floor of the shower is wet and slippy with soap not completely washed away, the sensation strange and slightly uncomfortable under my feet. I turn the water on and a terribly low pressured stream of warm water starts dancing off the top of my head.

Fresh and clean, I wrap a towel around me, and wipe the steam off the mirror. I look worn and tired, I would never believe myself to not even have hit thirty. Darkness frames my eyes and my hair hasn't had a decent cut in ages. I braid my still wet hair sloppily, and moisturize my face. Why help those wrinkles any further along? I brush some mascara through my lashes, and put some lightly tinted chapstick on. Brushing my teeth, the automated task makes my mind wander again. I stare at myself in the mirror, and wonder what it would take for John to look at me the way he sometimes looks at other women. Once in a blue moon I catch him admiring someone from a distance, on a few occasions it has even gotten somewhere, my gut wrenched in envy every time he tells me to go home ahead of him, and he stays behind chatting up some girl in a bar. Am I really that much less sexy? I certainly don’t think so. I catch other men look at me all the time, but John is always composed and professional. On the rare instances when he does show me a sliver of his flirty side it never lasts longer than a minute.

A sudden knock on the door makes me jolt, almost making me drop the towel.

“Hey!” John calls through the door. 

“Fuck, John!” I holler back. “You startled me.”

“I’m getting coffee, and then I think we should leave. Get a move on.” He declares, and I faintly hear him turn on his heel and start walking away.

“Aye aye, captain!” I yell, and start digging through my stuff for some of those new clothes.


	3. Chapter 3

Brushed by death again, it had almost had me in its grip, but John managed to pull me back, away from its hunger and desire to swallow me whole. John saved my life, again. If it wasn’t for me saving his once in a while it would be discouraging, but I know I am an integral part of the opernation. The adrenaline is still coursing through my veins as I sip my whiskey. John sits across from me looking me over, taking his time checking me out for once. Sadly it’s not for the reasons I crave. 

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, my ego is just a bit bruised,” I say, and take a second to really feel out if it’s the truth or not. “And maybe a rib or two.” Coming back from the hunt, we simply change out of our hunting gear and headed to the nearest watering hole. My new shirt hangs over my body, it’s light and breezy, hugging my form in a flattering way. Still, the air is hot and sticky enough in the bar to make me wish I’d just gone for a tank top.

“Good.” John leans back on the chair taking a sip of his whiskey, and his fresh t-shirt tightens around his burly chest.

“Thanks,” I say, my voice suddenly meek.

“Don’t mention it,” he says and smiles softly at me. “This is what we do. We have each other's backs. That’s what makes us a good team.”

“Agreed,” I take a big gulp. “Honestly, I’ve never had a better partner. I’ve never felt such confidence in another hunter before.”

John stares me directly in the eyes for a good long time. And I suddenly feel vulnerable under his gaze.

“Yeah,” he sends me a smirk. “I know the feeling.”

My cheeks grow hot with the compliment, and the whiskey. My heart feels full as we sit in stillness for a moment. I feel my confidence rising, but just as I open my mouth to speak I’m interrupted.

“Refill?” The waitress bats her eyes and looks straight at John, paying me no attention.

“Johnny Black neat.” John replies, downing the last little sip of whiskey left in his glass.

“And for the mrs.?” She asks, still addressing John and not me.

“Her as well,” he chuckles. “But she can speak for herself, she’s no one's mrs.”

“Oh,” the waitress stands a little taller and smiles sweetly at him

We stay and drink for a while, and I try not to let it bother me that John keeps sending looks over to the waitress. I also try not to let her overt flirting bother me, making me feel like the third fucking wheel.

“Should we call it a night?” I ask with a yawn. It’s nearly midnight and the adrenaline has worn off ages ago. Now all that is left is the slight pain in my ribs, and tiredness creeping in at me.

“You go on ahead,”John says as he scans the room. “I’ll stay for a bit.”

“That’s okay.” I try my best to suppress a yawn. “I can stay for a bit longer.”

“You go get some sleep,” John says, still not looking at me. His eyes have found what they were searching for.

I don’t need to stay for the next part. I know what’s coming. John is gonna get on his feet as I grow nearer to the door, then he’s gonna put the moves on the waitress. She’s gonna cock her head back in a laugh as he says something sorta funny, and then she’s gonna tell him when her shift is ending. He’ll get the innuendo and wait it out. And then what is destined to be, will be.

Luckily the motel is only a stone throw away from the bar. I step into the room and sit down on the bed. I take a moment to rest my head in my hands and take a deep breath. Fuck. Why does this hurt a little more every time? John doesn’t belong to me, and he never will. I know this, I know it’s a bad idea, I know he sees me as a friend, or maybe he even sees himself as my guardian. I hate it. Why can’t he see me the way I want him to? As a woman. As a young, red blooded woman who is standing right in front of him. I can feel myself getting worked up, my pulse is rising, anger filling up my chest with white hot rage. I take a few more deep breaths to calm myself. Remind myself that I haven’t done anything to let him in on how I feel. I could just as easily tell him and get it out of the way. If he leaves me at the side of the road, at least I won’t have to see him with anyone else. If we split up I can move on.

***

I wake as John shuffles into the room. I can hear he has had a bit too much whiskey, I can smell it too. 

“She do you good?” I sit up in bed, beyond annoyed, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand.

“Well shit, is this how we talk to each other now?” He laughs, deep chuckles thick with drink. “Not very professional.”

“Well, I don’t know, I don’t feel especially professional right now. I just know I’ve been rudely awoken in the middle of the night by your stumbling ass.” I huff the words at him, crossing my arms across my chest, suddenly painfully aware that I’m in my night shirt, no bra.

“Well, in that case I guess you need to know if it was worth it, huh?” He says, a grin spreading across his face. “As a matter of fact she did. She really did.” He slumps down on the couch, but winces as he lays down. If he hurt his back saving my ass or fucking that waitress I don’t know, but still that couch is no good fit.

“Oh for heaven's sake, get in the bed. I promise not to take advantage.” I say annoyed.

“Okay, okay…” He mumbles. “But I’m sleeping on top of the covers.”

I roll my eyes at him and move to the side to make more room for him. He lays down carefully, as if accidentally touching me will make me go up in flames and he turns his broad back to me.

“Good night,” he utters.

“Night,” I whisper back as I turn off the light

***

  
In the pale morning light I wake to find him facing me. He’s still asleep, breathing heavily through his nose. A beam of sun creeping in through a tiny gap between the curtains cradle his face beautifully, I want to reach out and touch it, brush my thumb against his stubbled chin and soft lip, but I know I can’t. He slowly starts to move, his eyes opening slowly. He gives me a smile and a mumbled  _ good morning _ , and just like that all my anger at him melts away. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He had to blow off some steam to find his calm again.


	4. Chapter 4

I lay on my back on the bed, frantically fanning myself with my hand. The AC is of the good old kind that only works when it wants to, suddenly dying with a sad rattling sound when it’s had enough. It’s been dead for two hours at this point and I feel like I might melt straight into the bedding. I’ve been on John’s case asking whether we should leave, but he’s deep in thought writing in his journal, updating it with our latest success, and muttering  _ “not yet” _ .

“So what do we do now? Where do we go?”

John is still on the couch, bent over his journal on the coffee table. He lays down his pen and sighs, his hands rubbing the stubble of his chin.

“I don’t know,” he sighs.

“How about we go back to the cabin? Cool it for a while, calm down?” I ask, as I try to convince myself part of my need to do this doesn’t stem from jealousy, my need for having him all to myself for a bit.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why?” I ask. I do my best to not sound like a whiny kid, hoping to god I am succeeding. 

“It’s far.”

“We’ll take turns driving.”

“The cabin was only an option because we were so close,” “and now, we’re not. It’s a waste of time.”

“But it might be good to take a break for a bit.”

“Y/N,” he says in that strict, slightly scary tone, that says drop it. I hate this about him, that he always has to have the last word, always calling the shots in the end. Sometimes I feel like he forgets that we are equals in this, he is not my guardian, and I am not one of his kids. 

“Well, why don’t you let me know when you have made a decision for us?” I get up so fast I feel my head spin with loss of blood pressure and stomp towards the door. “I’m going out.” I state and slam the door shut. John pays me no attention.

***

I sit by the derelict pool cooling my feet in the water, I am sick to my stomach and can’t believe I did what I just did. Way to act like an adult who deserves to be treated like an equal. The sound of his weight disturbing the cracked tiles behind me lets me know he’s coming up behind me. I squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to keep my calm. While I exhale the deepest breath I’ve taken all day, he speaks.

“What’s going on?” He walks up besides me and looks at me intently.

The truth is that I don’t know. It feels like this little thing that was always just tickling me at the back of my mind has gone over to punching me relentlessly. It hasn’t been this bad in all the months we’ve worked together, it was always something there, but never like this. I could always push it down, and repress it.

“Just wanna know where we’re going…”

John searches me with his eyes, and I feel naked under his gaze. I don’t know which question I’m asking, or what kind of answer I’m hoping for.

“I was thinking somewhere not so hot,” he says, sitting down on a pool chair. “We always have that rumored haunting in Nebraska. What do you think?”

I can’t tell if I’m relieved or disappointed. At least he is taking my aversion to extreme heat into consideration. It’s a long drive, but we work best in a car, or on a hunt. We work best when we have a set goal. Less room in my mind for feeling and sentiment. That is our normal as a team. Our relationship wasn’t built for down time. John was right, going to the cabin, or anywhere, to take a break is a bad idea. When things calm down, my mind speeds up. I stand up and shake the pool water off my feet before I slide them into my flip flops.

“Sounds great John,” I say as I start walking. “I’ll pack my bag.”

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

It feels like the truck cabin is closing in around me. We’re nearing the fifth hour of us being crammed up together in John’s truck. He is speeding down the highway, keeping quiet. Too quiet. His silent stoicism usually doesn’t bother me, but now my head is racing with thoughts that won’t leave me alone. I’m suffocating. I try to push them away, but they have been growing steadily for far too long. Now, in the darkness of the cab, I work up the courage. In fact I no longer have a choice. Open up or keep shutting up, either way this could blow up in my face, but at least this way I’ll know. Do or die.

“This isn’t working anymore.” I keep my voice steady, knowing that if I don’t focus my voice will crack.

He doesn’t say anything, but I can make out his brow furrowing in the dark.

“I can’t keep pretending that I feel nothing anymore.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to try,” John keeps his eyes fixed on the road.

“That’s a bullshit answer, John. And you know it!” I spit my words out. I feel anger rising in my chest. A feeling I’m much more comfortable with than sadness. In anger my voice doesn't crack, I feel strong and in charge.

John pulls the truck over and turns his head to face me. I am almost certain he wants to throw me out at the side of the road and speed off into the darkness. I won’t give him the chance. I fling the door open and jump out, slamming it shut behind me. I make my way over to the bed of the truck in three long strides. I hear him get out of the truck, and soon he is right beside me.

“Y/N,” he says, looking at me. His voice is low, but calm.

He never says my name, not like this. He yells it as he pushes me out of danger’s way or in that cold, strict tone that let’s me know the discussion is over. Other than that he calls me so many other things. To different people I myself am just that; different people. He calls me Agent Knicks, darling, the mrs., deputy McVie, and sometimes he calls me sweetheart when we pretend that I am his grown up daughter or niece.

“Why her and not me?” I ask, anger still lingering in my chest, keeping me steady.

“Why who?”

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.” 

When he still doesn’t answer I sigh. “Why did you have to pick her, the waitress? I’m right here. Every fucking day, and yet you never look at me, not like that.”

“Sweetheart, you're not her.” He simply says.

I feel the air go out of me, like I’ve been punched in the gut. A silence follows, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to act, or even how to feel. 

I try to speak, but nothing comes out.

“And she’s not you,” he finally says and takes a step towards me. “I care for you, Y/N. You’re smart, you hunt well, you’re good looking, but this can’t happen.”

“Why?” I croak, cursing myself for letting my anger subside.

“I’ve been through this and it doesn’t work. Not just with colleagues, but trying to maintain a relationship at all.” 

I look down at my boots, willing them to stride away, as far from John as possible, but they won’t yield. Something deep inside me is forcing me to see this through, and not run away like I always do. I run towards danger, and in the end I always run away from anything that might turn into something more.

“You said it yourself John. I’m not her, and you’re not us.” 

A long pause follows, my world stands still, waiting for John to force me away or finally let me in.

He clears his throat. “I’ll hurt you.”

“Maybe,” I say, my voice low, almost at a whisper, “but I don’t care.”

“You say that now.”

“It’s better to have tried,” I argue. “Not trying might hurt more. The what ifs will drive me nuts.”

I take a step towards him, closing in on his personal space.

“Please don’t,” John says, softly grabbing hold of my shoulder. His touch spreads a warm feeling through me, as with my name, his touch is never like this either, and he feels it too. I feel his hand lingering on my shoulder before he lets it slide down my arm, he stops at my hand. John holds on to it, tenderly. 

“You sure you want to try this?” He finally asks, and my heart rises to my throat.

“I think we might have to…” I say. “If we don’t it will be the end of this partnership anyway.”

He pulls at my hand, urging me closer. I calmly snake my other arm around his neck and he slides his around my waist. We look at each other intensely for several seconds before John leans in to kiss me. His lips meet mine softly at first. They are softer than I’d imagined, his ruggedness and forceful nature has led me to believe that his kisses are hard and hasty, but this is something entirely different. There is a time and a place for softness and a time for haste, this kiss fits the situation perfectly. 

Soon, however, passion takes hold of us both. My body is pressed against him, both my arms now around his neck urging him closer to me. John’s hands are on my waist, holding on to it firmly, as if he’s afraid I might buckle under the heat of his sweltering kiss. And I just as well might. Now I can feel the force I know he’s capable of. His lips push against mine and the scruff of his beard is rough against my delicate skin. His tongue dances with mine and I taste him. He tastes just as I had imagined he would, coffee and chlorophyll gum. 

I gasp as I feel the bulge in his pants press against my lower belly. My evident arousal spurs him on, makes him grip me tighter. I am sure my skin is turning white under his strong fingers, but I don’t care. I want him to hold onto me as hard as possible, and to never let me go. This is what I want, what I’ve wanted for a long time, what I’ve wished I didn’t want during those long nights waiting for him to come back from a night spent with someone else. He’s mine now, at least for tonight, but hopefully for ever. I feel ready to rip the shirt off his back and have him bend me over against the truck, but I also want us to take our time. I don’t want to blow this passion on a quick bang in the middle of nowhere, I want to make sure I explore all of him, and have him take his time with me. I want him to fuck me like I know he can, hard and rough and for him to make me pine and squirm and beg him not to stop.

Acting against all the instincts of my wanting body I pull away from his kiss.

“What?” He sounds alarmed.

“Let’s go somewhere,” I say, catching my breath. “Check in somewhere.”

He doesn’t protest, but I can tell he wants to, I hear him groan and it makes my sex clench in response.

“Believe me,” I say with a smirk, “I want you to fuck me right here, right now, but I also want to have the time and room to do this right. For you to fuck me right.”

John pulls at his jeans and groans a second time.

“You make a hell of a point,” he huffs, “but be warned, sweetheart, you already got me so god damn hot and bothered that I don’t know what to do with myself. When I get you indoors, you better be ready.”

I nod as I feel my nethers throb with his promise.

  
  



End file.
